The Evil That the Dead Do
by lunarpetals
Summary: He's just another victim of the Outbreak. His story's the same as countless others: he lost his lover, his family, and a bit of his humanity. However, he's determined to change that.    Timeline follows source material. Some references to heavy metal. OC.
1. Chapter 1: Be Quick or Be Dead

He struck like a viper, moving in fast and hard, battering her defenses like waves against the shore during the heat of a storm. Twin iron rods—lead pipes, really—some two and a half feet in length with cloth bandages wrapped along the handles to stabilize grip were encrusted with gore and dripping with fresh blood. He planted his right foot firmly, making sure his stance was correct, and launched himself at the defender once more. But she was prepared for his attack, for the woman immediately lashed out with a cut aimed for his then vulnerable midsection. Instinctively he brought down one of his steel batons to deflect the blow, but realized a fraction of a second too late that her weapon was at a disadvantage, being longer and with a sharpened edge, added to that her innate strength which would surely decimate his foolish attempt to parry. At the very last second he decided to abandon his offensive and reinforce his guard with his second weapon. And it proved to be a life saver. He crossed his rods, locking the tip of her sword in the middle. Reflexively he raised his crossed bars along with the captive sword above his head and cast perhaps one of the craziest gambles he'd ever done his entire life. Mustering whatever courage that still clung to his bones; he strode forward with arms still held high, and the dreaded katana slithering past him in a deathly hiss of steel as he crept closes to his prey. If it was a deathmatch he'd already kneed her exposed ribs and finished her off. Smiling, both combatants relaxed and laughed. She withdrew her blade and sheathed it in one fluid movement. He raised one of his iron bars in salute, dropped them both and, tears in his eyes, sped towards his long lost friend for an embrace.

_**Chapter 1: Be Quick Or Be Dead**_

The past days have been a blur. He stank of dried blood and brain matter. His stomach rumbled his throat was cracked dry. He had barely enough stamina to last him one more night. But that's when fortune changed. The condo building was relatively free of "Them", and could easily be secured. Upon entering he immediately barred the doors and windows with the heaviest pieces of furniture he could get his hands on and scouted the upper floors for any hostiles. There were five of the things, of which he dispatched effortlessly. Finally convinced that the area was safe, he retired to the unit on the third floor. The unit was nothing fancy. Standard rooms, quite spacious, really. There was a medicine cabinet there and a fridge stuffed with consumables. Water was also running. There were clothes coincidentally his size. The view was good, overlooking the city (or what was left of it). But the best part was that unit faced an adjacent building that had also had a balcony on the same floor level. The distance was a scant eight to ten feet away, but given his athletic capabilities he could make the jump no sweat should things suddenly turn sour.

He let the warm water wash away his fatigue. The feeling of being clean was a hundred times more refreshing than the shower itself. He took his time scrubbing off the dirt and grime before losing himself under the shower's comforting torrent. Half an hour later he dried himself up. He had some minor cuts here and there, but they didn't sting as much as he thought they would. A bit of antiseptic and gauze did the trick. He sat on the bed and helped himself to some biscuits and a can of soda as he tried to plot out his next course of action. Obviously he could not backtrack home to check if his parents and surviving siblings got to safety. The alleys and main road was choked with the undead. He would not last five minutes by himself outside, no matter how good he was in a fight; their sheer numbers would cut him down in a flash. Though it pained him to do so, he had to brace himself and expect the worst.

He chewed thoughtfully as he tried to digest what he had learned so far. Those… things, they don't react to pain. A blow to the head is the only sure way to knock them down for good. Speaking of which, he remembered, knocking them down was as good as finishing them off. To immobilize them required less effort and gave one enough time to run for cover before they got back up on their feet. Another thing was that they seem to rely on their sense of hearing the most. If those things had the keen nose of a hound his wounds have given him away already. Yes. It made a world of sense. And their eyes. If they could, at the very least, detect his presence visually, they would have reacted when he dashed past them. They would've turned their already rotting heads the moment peripheral vision caught movement, but no. They only knew he was there when he tripped in panic and let out a surprised yell.

He took a grateful sip of his drink and tried to delve into the matter further. Those things… what were they, anyway? Nobody can take such a savage beating and still shamble forward. He crushed that woman's ribs. Solid metal smashing against soft flesh and delicate bone. The impact should have punctured organs, called forth severe internal bleeding. Yet she still came on to him, tried to bite a chunk out of him. No shock, no reeling. Pure blood thirst. It was out of desperate flailing when he smashed her on the forehead and her body went slack. Corpses. Yes, they had to be dead already. Clearly, they were no longer human.

'No longer human'. That thought struck him like a crowbar. He looked at his hands and trembled. I'm such a prick for thinking that, he cursed himself. He had just killed two people he loved—his brothers— with his bare hands. Their bodies were still warm, and he was already thinking negatively of them. "Benjamin… Ray…" To his chagrin, he realized that it was only now that he had managed to let loose his emotions and cry. Thoughts raged in his mind: of his family, his girlfriend, his best friend. And it broke him. "What the fuck is going on?" he asked himself aloud, but was mindful not to make too much noise lest those things hear him. He just went out for a night to drink his troubles away, and when he came to the next morning the world was already in the shores Hell.

Sleep proved to be difficult. All the groaning and screaming outside set him on the edge. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his head telling him to double-check the entrance and see if the barricade would hold. He brushed the thought aside, convinced that he did a good job securing the portal and forced himself to get much needed rest. But still instinct urged him to take a look around. Not one to mistrust instinct, he slowly got up, and with weapons in hand, scouted the halls for any sign of activity. The place was as quiet as the dead… metaphorically speaking, because the ones outside were making a racket. Not thoroughly convinced that the coast was clear, he crept downstairs to check if anything managed to get through the door. The blockade was undisturbed, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Suddenly there was a loud banging, then screaming. "Is anyone there?" a voice cried out. "Let us in! Please! We're hurt!"

He never thought there'd come a day he would curse the values his parents taught him, about doing all that you can to help someone in need. Despite the risk, without hesitation, he moved the couch and vending machine aside and opened the door just enough for a person to go through. It was a small group of people, four in number. Two of them were women, and one was about the same age as him. One of them, a man, had a horrible gash on the shoulder, a huge portion of his shirt ripped away. The other one seemed to have her wrist and neck torn crudely. She clutched her wounds and was alabaster with blood loss and fear.

"Get in!" he readied his weapons and stood guard at the door as the wounded made their way inside. Three of the walking dead tried to follow, but he immediately intercepted and felled one with a quick jab to the temple. Spoilt blood sprayed like rain and found himself drenched in rotting crimson. He spat in disgust, wiping the gore off his face. One zombie tried to claw at his face, but he quickly backpedaled and swung full force. Tempered steel crack open bone and the creature fell back and hit the pavement with a dull thud. Gaining momentum he rushed towards the final zombie standing in his way and delivered a furious backhand stroke that sheared its forehead off. Seeing that all survivors made it safely inside, he hurried back and replaced the barricades.

"Everyone else alright? Please proceed to the unit on the third floor. There's food and medical supplies there. You guys can nourish yourselves and patch up the wounded." He called for the one who looked most capable of holding his own against the horde, a man in his early twenties, rapier thin and a pretty boy haircut. He scowled knowing that man hadn't the slightest of combat experience and would only be good as fodder, but he had to make do with what was available. He handed him one of his lead pipes. "You know how to use this, right?"

The man stuttered, as if begrudgingly accepting the responsibility. "I think I can manage."

He watched the other members of the group warily ascend the stairs as he hand his chosen partner stood guard over the door. There was no telling if the walking dead had become aware of the survivors and decides to bear down on their meager fortifications.

"What's your name?" he asked, hoping to break the ice.

"Ren Tanaka." The man answered as sheepishly as ever. His confidence in the man wavered by the second. "You?"

"Kaede Danma. Pleased to meet you." He offered a customary bow and shook Ren's hand. The stranger smiled. Kaede found it relieving that Ren wasn't as timid as he thought. "Mind telling me what happened?"

"I don't know the full story. I met them while running from those things. We wandered around, trying to look for shelter, but no luck. Two of them got bit on the way here. Looks pretty bad, but I hope they'll be fine. We're really fortunate you opened up. I was pretty sure we were about to die."

"Hey now, don't jinx it." He chuckled. "I'm just glad there are still living people out there like me. I honestly thought I was gonna end up alone. Don't worry; we're all in this together now. Those injured can get back up on their feet once their wounds are dressed."

Ren nodded, obviously bolstered by the knowledge that a capable fighter stood by his side, in his eyes a glimmer of hope that he just might get to live a little longer. "Say, Kaede—"

"Please call me 'Danma'." He cut the man short, trying his best not to sound rude. "I'm sorry. I know you're probably older than me and with all these honorifics about age and rank, I'm pretty sure I sound like a jerk. I don't mean to. It's just that I never really grew here in Japan, and I'm used to people calling me by my last name. So... there."

Ren studied him for a moment. "You're not Japanese? But you speak Japanese so fluently. And you look Japanese, too!"

"I get that a lot," Kaede admitted, scratching his head. "I may look like I'm from around here, but truth be told I'm only half. I'm part French and English."

"No kidding!" Ren laughed. "Really? Wow! You don't look it at all!"

Kaede joined the mirth. "My father's blood runs strong. Either that, or I was adopted. I'll never really know now, huh? But you should see my siblings. They barely have any oriental in them." But his laughter died down as he remembered his brothers and what he had to do. "Anyway," he cleared his throat, desperate for a change of topic. "Yeah, please, just call me 'Danma' if it would be okay."

Tanaka smiled and nodded understandingly. "Alright, Danma." And that was when Kaede's newfound respect for him skyrocketed.

"We should check up on the others. Let's move."

Tanaka refused to move. "But the doors…"

"It doesn't look like we've attracted any more of those things. Besides, I'm pretty sure the doors will hold. Should they decide to knock, we'll get a heads up and can act on it immediately. Come on, maybe they need our assistance."

They found the rest of the group in unrest as the wounds of those injured would not stop bleeding. They've nearly exhausted the meager supply of bandages and gauze. "I don't know what to do!" the unharmed girl sobbed as the man with the tattered shoulder convulsed and heaved, spraying volumes of crimson with each wracked cough. Ren and Kaede held the man by the arms and legs as the girl tried to wipe blood off the man's lips. None of them had proper medical training, but lucky for them Kaede was knowledgeable about practical and survival first aid. He inspected the wound. It was a shallow cut; it hadn't even reached the artery from what he could tell. But why the hell was it bleeding like crazy?

"Take some bandages and apply pressure on the wound. Don't worry if they get soaked through. Just slap on a new batch and do not disturb the wound, do you understand? We need to stop the bleeding." The girl bobbed her head uncontrollably as she dedicated her weight over the lesion. But the man continued to jerk and groan for another minute before finally going still. There was a moment of silence. The girl slid her index and middle finger over the side of the man's neck, but there was no pulse. She placed her ear near the man's nose, hoping for a note of life. Nothing.

Christ, Kaede thought. A flesh wound and he's already gone? That can't be right! A second hadn't even passed when the man who was supposedly dead already bolted upright and clutched the girl still leaning close to him by the neck, biting off a gruesome portion. The horror took everyone, even Kaede, by surprise. She shrieked and thrashed wildly, but the reanimated carcass bore down on her and continued to feast. Kaede steeled himself and shattered the ghoul's skull in one brutal wallop. The cadaver shuddered and crumbled into a lifeless heap a second time, although now permanently. The girl, in her throes of death, shoved the corpse away, tears in her eyes and begging them for help. He meant to pull her up, but paled as realization dawned on him like a death sentence. The man he killed just now. Ren told him that he suffered a bite from one of those beasts, and now, shortly after, turned into one of "them". "Help me…" the words bubbled in her throat. He glanced at the corpse, then at her, then back at the dead body.

He stared into her eyes and watched the life fade away. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, he saw in terrifying detail her dread. He was surely to back out if her features hadn't softened into a mask of understanding and gratitude. Danma's guts churned in absolute self-loathing and disgust, but knew it had to be done, and quickly. Time was a commodity in dreadfully short supply. "Hey! What are you doing?" Ren cried out in protest, but he paid him no mind. Kaede fastened his grip on the steel pipe and readied for another blow.

Kaede admitted that he felt a twinge of embarrassment when Ren grabbed him by the arms and slammed him against the wall. He certainly did not think there would be an ounce of strength in that man. "Why the hell did you do that? She was still alive!"

Kaede straightened and pushed the stranger away. "Not for long." He said darkly. "Piece it together. You said that man was bitten, right?" he pointed his weapon at the corpse he'd dispatched earlier. "His wound was more of a scratch than anything else. Look at what happened to him now. Don't you get it? They get to you, you're infected. If you get infected, then you die. Simple as that. I did what I had to do. I can't risk everybody's safety for someone who's as good as dead anyway. This is the only safe place we've got right now," he turned his attention to the other bite victim, his fist clenched into a white-knuckled grip. "I'm not leaving anything to chance."

Ren stepped back, obviously unsure if he heard Danma's words correctly. "You can't be serious."

The girl with the torn neck clutched her wound tighter than before, feebly attempting to scurry back, but she hadn't the stamina to do so. "Please! Please! I'm not one of them! You've got to be joking!" She howled in baffled rage. "You're going to kill me just like that?"

"You're saying you'd rather turn into one of those abominations and try to kill us than dying as yourself with dignity intact?"

"I'm not gonna die!" She protested, blood trickling down the sides of her mouth. "I won't die! I won't accept it! You're crazy! You can't kill me!"

"Keep it down. You'll attract the rest." The sudden, deathly shift in Kaede's tone was unnerving. His weapon arm seemed to take on a life of its own and poised to deal death. "If none of you will recognize the generosity that is in my actions, then you leave me no choice but to act according to my selfish interests. Listen, miss. I want to live. But letting you walk free and soon capable of biting me down to size prevents me from meeting that desire to live. And because you refuse to cooperate, you leave me no choice. Either way, in the end, I am left to strike you down. I'm begging you. Don't make things harder for me than they already are."

"Please… just leave me alone." The girl, unable to accept the facts, finally broke down. It shattered Kaede's heart to see a woman in tears, but what was he to do? "Don't come any closer! Don't!" Her cries fell upon deaf ears. Even Ren started to see the logic in Kaede's words and decided to stay in the corner and keep his mouth shut. Kaede strode purposefully, his weapon humming with anticipation.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

The girl let out a bloodcurdling scream, and then everything was still.


	2. Chapter 2: Run To the Dead

_**Chapter 2: Run to the Dead**_

Kaede's face was an emotionless mask. He looked him squarely in the eye and said, "Better get ready. Things are gonna get bad."

"What do you mean?" Ren answered, visibly shaken by what he had just seen.

"Those things outside are attracted to noise. They'll be bearing down on our doors any minute now. Grab all the useful things you can get." He went to his possessions and bagged small food items, basic medicinal supplies, and a fresh shirt. In a heartbeat Ren had already emptied the fridge and medicine cabinets and stuffed them inside a duffle bag lying around. "Game?"

"I'm ready when you are." Ren answered. He tried to sound composed and tough. He would have been convincing if he hadn't been shaking so badly. Kaede shook his head and led on.

The two barely reached the second floor when circumstances began working against them. The dead had breached the barricade quicker that he had expected and were already making their way up the stairs, rising like a tide of fangs. Tanaka yelped, and Danma bit back a curse as he called for a retreat. In two minutes they found themselves back in the third floor unit and galloping over the corpses he'd dealt with earlier.

Four of the undead managed to get inside. Kaede wasted no time and moved to intercept. As quick as he was devastating, he whipped his lead pipe and sent two of them flying back with shattered brainpans. Ren, in his first display of ferocity, raised the cudgel above his head and charge, smashing the steel pillar hard against a female zombie's brow. Tanaka found the thrill of combat addictive and threw himself at the remaining flesh eater and hammered creature's head again and again, showering him with blood and skull fragments. "Die! Die! Die! Die!" He howled in desperate rage. He failed to notice one of the beasts come up from behind him. Dead weight pinned him down, and Ren could feel its lifeless maw close in on his shoulder. He squirmed and kicked and turned until he was lying on his back. He had a better chance at defending himself if he came face to face with his predator. He wished he hadn't done so, though. The thing trying to take a bite out of him had half its face torn of, the nose and most of the flesh on the lower jaw gone. All that was there were bared teeth and threads of dangling tendons. Disgusting! Ren pulled out his free hand and grabbed the thing by its hair, holding on and pushing back as best as he could as the ghoul determinedly, persistently snapped its jaws at him. His left arm wasn't his best, and he found his grip weakening fast. He tried to swing his weapon with his right, but such a weapon, due to its length, was not meant for tightly-packed situations. The blow had no real power, and felt more like a tap than a bone-crushing jab. Knowing death was certain, he let out a helpless cry. Thank God for Kaede, who swooped in and cracked the zombie's temple before any harm could be done.

Kaede tugged a rattled Tanaka by the collar, and pulled him roughly to his feet. "Keep it together and be on guard! Don't waste too much time on "them". Once they're dead, move on to the next!"

The pair made quick work of the wretches, but ten more squeezed through the crammed portal, lurching towards them with one common goal in mind, along with hundreds more outside the room. Ren and Kaede exchanged nods and rushed to meet the approaching horde. Ren swung his weapon like a sledgehammer, movement unrefined and overextended, yet effective nonetheless. In contrast, Kaede darted about with the grace and force of a trained swordsman, displaying his skill in Eskrima, the Southeast Asian art of stick-fighting used by many of the world's elite military forces. Tanaka roared and plowed through the dead clustering around him. Kaede found it somewhat disturbing that his newfound brother-in-arms reveled in the bloodbath. Still, an able arm was always welcome if it meant better chances of getting out of the building in one unscathed piece.

"Let's jump off the balcony!" Kaede called as he shoved the last zombie aside with a spinning backhand, its head bursting like a melon. Things were finally calm, but they knew the serenity wouldn't last. Hurriedly they pushed the bed against the main door and stacked anything heavy to enforce the makeshift barrier. That would hold them off even for just a few precious minutes. "We can reach the adjacent building and go on from there!"

Ren gave him a bemused look. "Jump off? Are you insane? That's a ten foot leap and a thirty foot drop!"

"Would you rather get eaten piece by piece, then?" Ren gulped and shook his head. Kaede smiled and opened the balcony door. The blast of cool air awakened his senses. If felt good. He had no idea dawn had already passed. The rails were laced with dew and early morning mist made the city look like a scene straight out of a horror film. "Gather momentum and pray to God you don't mess up. Go! I'll cover you!" Tanaka raced to the balcony and hurled his bag across. Either he doubted Kaede's advice, or was being brutally honest to himself knowing well enough that he was more likely to screw up if he attempted anything flashy. Instead, he did what he thought was the most sensible (or stupid) thing to do. Forcing himself to steady, Ren stood precariously on the iron fencing, beads of sweat trickling down his face as the thought of a sudden drop below robbed him of will. "I told you to pick up some speed before jumping! Don't look down!" Kaede shouted as the banging on the door intensified. Easier said than done! Ren growled to himself. Still paying no mind to the warning, he took a deep breath and focused all of his weight and strength on the jump. For a second there, Ren was quite sure he was going to die. His destination seemed to grow further out of reach as he hurtled towards it. The world snaps back into place as he feels himself crashing against the smooth stone surface that was the neighbor's balcony, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He clung onto the rails for dear life, thrashing wildly as he tried to haul himself over the barrier and onto the safety of solid flooring.

Kaede got on one knee and poised to sprint when the door burst open and a dozen dead hands clawed at him. He snarled and paid no attention to the ravenous fiends trying make their way inside the room. Backpack straps fastened, weapon grip tightened, he ran towards the opening like a bat out of Hell. He covered the distance six strides and, not stopping, leapt onto the railings and vaulted over. He was a lot more athletic than Ren, add to that the basic Parkour lessons he'd receive months earlier, so his landing was far better and safer. "Hey! Help me! Hey!" Tanaka cried, still struggling to climb up. Ren had lost hold of the lead pipe he was given, and it went with a lifeless clang. Kaede cursed the loss of such an important instrument and had to fight back the urge to give Ren a helping of 'boot-to-the-teeth'. But that could wait, he thought. Immediately he grabbed his partner's arm and readied to pull… until he felt something wet. He looked at his hand and froze.

"What are you waiting for?" Ren shouted, flailing desperately. Kaede did not answer, did not move. "Hey, man! Come on! I'm not kidding! Help me up!"

"Your arm." he finally spoke.

Ren did not understand. He wanted to yell at Kaede for screwing around. But now, come to think of it, his left arm was feeling kind of fiery and itchy. He afforded the throbbing limb a glance and paled with inescapable horror. His forearm was drenched with red pouring from a disgusting tear—a bite mark— just above the wrist. Had he lost himself in the excitement of bloodshed earlier that he failed to notice one of the ghouls snacking on him? Ren knew immediately what was about to happen, he could tell by the look in Kaede's eyes, and could not come to terms with reality just yet.

Tanaka meant to negotiate, to tell him that he's got it all wrong. It's just a scratch! But he felt his supposed savior's grip loosen. "Don't let me go, please!" There was a pause, a stillness, Ren's breathing ever quickening in pace as he dangled perilously on the edge. Again, he pleaded. "Kaede…!"

His grip on the man's arm now iron, Kaede slowly raised his weapon. "I told you to call me Damna." Then he bashed Ren's skull in. Kaede felt the hold on him slacken as the body plummeted to the street below. There was a splat and the cracking of bone. The last thing Kaede saw was a group of the undead closing in on Ren's unmoving form before turning his back and setting off to scout the area. He sincerely hoped that the strike killed Ren before he hit the earth.

Kaede was glad he wore soft-soled shoes. His footsteps were muffled, allowing him to effectively sneak up on zombies he'd run across. He'd be home free in no time. He had to give Ren some credit for packing the bag well. It was stashed with enough disinfectants, wound dressings, cold meds, bottled water and towels. He checked the other compartments and found a flashlight and a pack of candlesticks.

He nodded to himself, and whispered "Perfect." He tore the packaging open and laid out five candles, then reached into his pocket for his lighter. It was a Zippo, had seen roughly thirty years of faithful service, its once lustrous gold finish now worn and matte. It belonged to his father. The moment the old man was diagnosed with lung cancer, Kaede took the lighter for 'safekeeping': to make sure his dad wouldn't succumb to the temptation of lighting a stick. Funny how a lot of people raved about models such as this one, even though newer types had the exact same old function, and was just as efficient. Kaede himself didn't smoke, and therefore had no real reason to carry a lighter around. But it felt cool to own one, and he left it at that. He lit up the wax pillars one by one, saying a prayer for each. "I hope you understand," he said. "I know it's none of my business, but wanted you all to go as yourselves." He crossed himself. "To go with pride." The light pierced the darkness, blanketing the hallway with an eerie orange. He watched as the flames danced with the occasional breeze that wafted in his direction. Just one more floor to go and it was the streets again. He procured some biscuits and a can of soda from his backpack and placed them beside the candles.

The early morning sun felt great. The skies were blue and majestic. It would have been a perfect day if only the dead weren't after his ass. Kaede slithered past hordes with relative ease now that they were in the open. Light and vision were on his side now. He was always mindful of his step, always mindful to avoid surfaces that easily made noise. He would steer clear of anything hollow fragile. Even the faintest of sound could give him away. Kaede willed himself—forced himself—to be as tranquil as nonexistence itself. 'Stay silent, and stay out in the open' was his dogma, and it had kept him alive so far. He didn't bother to jog, let alone run. Not only would it be tiresome, his attention span would also be split like a kaleidoscope. The thought of making a speedy left, only to bump into a group of the walking dead unexpectedly, did not sit well with him. He could not afford to be caught off-guard. Kaede convinced himself that survival chances would be relatively higher if he covered ground slowly but surely.

He found himself standing at a torn-up crossroads, where buildings and homes alike towered like cliffs, enclosing the area into a certain kill zone. The road was strewn with wrecked vehicles, trash, and human remains. The stench was unbearable, nearly forcing Kaede to empty his guts. He heard shuffling somewhere around the eastern fork. Judging by the intensity, he could tell it was a large group. Warily, pressing himself against the wall, he peered around the corner and confirmed his fears. The pathway writhed with zombies, shambling aimlessly, their groans an unearthly song of carnage and hunger. There was no way, not a chance in hell that he could squeeze through that mob. There were definitely hundreds of 'them' in the streets alone! One wrong move, of which he was certain would likely occur as early as the first step, would mean a shredded Kaede. Thinking quickly, he carefully picked up some bottles amongst the debris, and hurled as far as he could opposite their direction. He couldn't thank God enough that it worked. The sound of shattering glass to 'them' was like an invitation to a party. One by one the ghouls limped and crawled towards the racket. Soon enough, an unruly queue was mobilizing right in front of him. Kaede scrambled to gather some more breakables and rile them, lead them further away until he had a clear path of escape. He continued to lob jars and bottles and cans, the horde growing more and more restless by the second. The herd was like a giant serpent, and looking at the numbers, Kaede understood he was now facing the midsection. He grinned. Almost there! His heart was pounding with excitement and dread alike. And that excitement almost led to his demise. He got a bit reckless, acted a little too hasty, for when he meant to toss that empty whisky bottle, he fumbled, lost hold, and it exploded into a hundred crystalline shards at his feet. Dozens of dead faces, their silvered and lifeless eyes, turned to him. All the discipline and composure collapsed as the serpent reared its head and gaped its rotting, many-fanged maw. Kaede summarized all of his rage and embarrassment in two words:

"Oh… Shit…"


	3. Chapter 3: Aces High

Avoid corners. Avoid tight spaces. Avoid sewer gratings. Keep looking forward. Keep moving. Keep breathing. Don't bother looking back. You know damn well what's right behind you. Just focus and keep your distance. Stay out in the open where you can see them. Don't engage unless necessary. Kaede's mind raced as he looked for places he can climb, any low-hanging terraces or verandas, ladders, anything! He had to get to high ground if he wanted to live and fight another day.

Even though he had a friend who lived just a couple of blocks from where he was standing, he never got around to familiarize himself with the area. He never really got an answer for that one. There was just something about the neighborhood that didn't feel right. Now that he was given the chance to take a closer look, however, he could probably tell why. The buildings, some towering and some as small as a one-storey house, were closely knit in the most literal sense, most of them a measly four to five feet apart. Barely enough walking room and a claustrophobic's nightmare. With no room to maneuver and a sure one-way trip to God knows where, walking into one of the shadowy passages was a stroll to the gallows.

He spotted a low-hanging fire ladder and it proved to be quite the tempting retreat, but immediate spat the though away as he realized that it was well beyond his reach. If only he'd taken his parkour lessons seriously he could have given it a shot, maybe launch himself, exert enough force to kick himself away from wall to wall to reach the retractable stairwell and pull it down for him to use. He saw some of his buddies do it before, just like seasoned thieves in movies, so he knew damn well it was possible. Alas, such acrobatics was not his forte, and had to look for sanctuary elsewhere. He needed to find some place easier to reach, some place more stable, and if possible, closer to the ground yet still out of dead-arm's reach. And he needed to find one fast. The horde nipping at his heels so persistently was now picking up speed. The groans echoed throughout the district in an unholy chorus, and would no doubt rouse others to their side, especially those still dwelling in the darkness, inside the shops, the offices, the homes. Soon enough they would come spilling out of their confines, and Kaede, given his poorly equipped state, cannot afford a flesh-hungry mob out for his hide.

Kaede kept running, glancing left, right, front. He had passed by around twenty buildings now and none of them offered a suitable roost. Hope was slipping from his grasp like sand. A group of zombies jumped from out of the corner and took him by surprise. Instinctively he ducked and rolled as arms swiped at him. He didn't bother retaliating. A moment of laxity and recklessness would no doubt lead to his destruction. He scrambled to his feet and turned blindly at a curve, the reanimated hot in his trail. "Shit!" Kaede roared at the late realization that he had strayed from the route he'd taken on the way here, and was now running aimlessly in unfamiliar territory crawling with hostiles. And each step dragged him deeper into the heart of the necropolis.

(_segment break_)

He leapt from one rooftop to another, scaled walls, fences, gates, and rails with the peerless grace of the finest feline specimen. The time he spent in Paris with the elite free-runners, "street acrobats" as most would call them, was time well spent. He never thought there would come a day that the skills he picked up in the span of four years would pull his ass out of the fire. What he couldn't outgun, he could easily outrun. And thankfully, those zombies were as agile as a lethargic walrus.

The winds whipped his hair wildly as he sat on a scaffold, a hundred and twenty feet above the ground, overlooking the destruction. Plumes of smoke and dust rose all throughout the city. On the street below him, hundreds of the walking dead went about their lifeless business, sniffing around for something to sink their teeth into. The very building he was resting in, a proposed condominium that never saw fruition, had its share of walking corpses, but he paid them no mind. The floor he'd chosen to purchase refuge from, same with the three floors below it, was still under construction, and had no means of decking whatsoever, save for the iron beams that was the building's skeleton and the few three-foot wide planks that served as a sorry excuse for walkways connecting one end of the room to the other. Even a healthy person who had full grasp of their senses would have one hell of a time trying to get to where he was. Unless the dead learned how to clamber like monkeys, he was virtually untouchable.

He heard the feint sound of dragging feet. From across the unfinished hall he could make out the shape of a person... well, a former person. It was a man dressed in a full suit which he guessed maybe back when things were still normal it must have cost a good sum. Must have been the owner of the building, he surmised. Yet somehow, that "man" looked really familiar, he just couldn't exactly point out why. It was only when it finally stepped into the light when it struck him like a hammer. God truly works in mysterious ways. Of all places, of all circumstances, fate brings him here. Tucked in his back pocket was a P2000 SK with a full clip, and lined across his belt were five more mags, fully loaded and containing the wrath of Hell in each round. In a sheath strapped to his boot also was a hunting knife that belonged to a family friend who was an army vet. It had seen action back in Vietnam. Pure murderous intent threatened to take over his hand, and, trembling, he forced his limbs to stay. As it groaned and paced about, an idea most amusing popped into mind. He picked up a chunk of debris and tapped it against the steel beam. The ghoul turned to source of the sound and advanced. As it fell, its head dashed against one of the columns from the floor below and burst into meaty fragments. He smiled. "Karma bites like a bitch, huh?"

He never expected to run across the man responsible for tearing his family apart, not at a time like this. Three years ago felt like yesterday as he recalled how his father ultimately chose to jump off his office window than come home bearing news that they've been bankrupted and lost all family assets. It wasn't after his father's funeral when he dug deeper into the story and learned that his old man was actually swindled by a loan shark. And that loan shark wasn't just some neighborhood tough with a liar's face. The man who robbed his already meager savings was one of Japan's top businessmen. The truth galled him to the core. Some people just can't get enough, to the point that they have to prey on the poor and the defenseless to sate their hunger.

A shame he didn't get the chance to kill the bastard himself while it was still human. Imagine the fun skinning the fool rather than luring it to fall to its death. He could have exacted a proper vengeance, restore his family's pride. But what's done was done. The important thing was he knew that man got what was coming to him and can start paying for his crimes in the deepest pits of hell.

He decided he'd gotten enough rest and wanted nothing more than to head back to the streets and see if there are any supplies he could pick up. He was down to his last candy bar and hunger was starting to kick in. Some of the convenience stores nearby were still standing. If he was lucky, maybe there'd be some instant ramen or maybe at least bread, _anything_. He'd already had his fill of sweets. Another bite and he'd be puking his guts out. Though it pained him to admit it, being a man of meat and fast food and all, he needed nourishment.

He scaled down the building, taking his time and made sure his steps firmly planted, moving like a spider as he descended the tower. Parkour was about moving freely, swiftly, in a straight line, not superhuman acrobatics defying the law of physics. This isn't a work of fiction, after all. If he screwed around there was a pretty good chance he'd end up like that loan shark. Even with his skill he needed to move about with care and precaution. He knew some parkour veterans who'd suffered a bad fall once or twice. Partly due to overconfidence, partly just plain bad luck. Such an accident at a time like this would be disastrous. Very, very, very disastrous indeed.

Finally he reached the functional floors, opened up a window, and wriggled his way in. He drew his knife and stalked the hallways for any wandering zombies. The upper floors were empty. The lower areas, however, proved more difficult to traverse. Funny. He didn't notice how the interior was in such a bad shape while he was scaling up the walls. He held the blade in a reverse grip and spun, shearing through bone and skull meat. He kicked the creature away, pulling his weapon free from the mess and turned to face the next threat. "Please, do pardon my uncouth behavior." he apologized to the walking corpse, thrusting the knife point upward and ramming it against the zombie's chin. A torrent of brownish fluid poured from the wound down his blade and drenching his hand. The living corpse writhed and jerked for a second, then sighed, and finally collapsed. There were still more of the beasts down the hallway. He knelt and used a zombie's blouse to wipe his cutter clean. "Well, then. I suppose I've had enough dilly-dallying around." Smiling, he sheathed his knife. In one fluid motion he wielded his beloved cannon and blasted his way towards the stairs.

The cream colored walls were his canvass, his gun was the brush, and undead brain matter his medium of choice. If one looked closely, the blood spatters resembled that of a giant butterfly… or not. It looked more like a mess. A horrific, unholy mess. Ghouls flew backward as he walked up to each and every wretch that dared cross him, and aimed forehead, and pulled the trigger pointblank. Yet still, they keep on coming. Not a problem. He had much rounds to spare. "It's quite a shame we can't resolve this peacefully," he said in a tone most dry, with a touch of haunting sincerity. "It would have been great to make new friends. But now I'm afraid I must show you all why the Yamaguchi-gumi called me the Black Fang."

(_segment break_)

Kaede's chin broke the fall. The weight of the bags he carried only made things worse. Never had he suffered such an unceremonious fall. He was just glad there wasn't anyone alive around to witness such clumsiness coming from. Otherwise he'd have to kill them to maintain secrecy! He paid no mind to the flares of pain the shot throughout his jaw. If he lived through this ordeal, he could whine about scratches later. Right now, losing the undead mob that trailed him was his priority.

Kaede ran a bit further and made a turn only to find out that the alley gave way to a dead end. Desperation mounted and for once in his very short life, as a man who lived life disciplining to combat the grip of fear, he had felt genuine panic. He wanted to raise his weapon in defiance of the grisly end fate offered him, but his limbs were leaden and unresponsive. Immediately he understood that the sickening feeling that washed over him was the sensation of will—the will to fight, to survive— spilling from his bones.

Ten, twenty, almost a hundred of the living dead closed in on him. Kaede shook the feeling off and continued to back away. It would be wiser he spent his energy running instead of cracking skulls. But there was no place for him to run. The dead had cut off the way back to the road. There was no way he would charge headlong into the fray. He was now literally against the wall, and the dead inched closer with each passing second. He had come this far, fought so hard. He had no intention of dying. The frustration, the rage, the sorrow, all sorts of emotions welled up inside him. Kaede screamed at the top of his lungs.

(_segment break_)

"What?" He turned and looked out the window. Zombies had flooded the lower levels. But there, at the edge of the alley… Good God! No, it can't be. Fate was certainly screwing with his mind. Just how many surprises were in store for him? He had to make sure it wasn't a hallucination. Seeing a friendly face during a time like this was weird. Nevertheless he welcomed the twist. After all, who better to stand by his side in driving the dead back than one whose skills and loyalty lie unmatched? He could not think of anyone better than his best friend. He had to make sure that man lives. Frantically he searched the room for sheets, rope, anything he could use to reach his friend in the alley below.

He thanked God for such fortune, stumbling upon a roll of thick nylon rope. Not wasting time he tied it around the post nearest to him. He checked if the knot was secured, nodding in satisfaction. He raced back to the window, and, not even waiting until he reached the portal, hurled the rest of the rope outside. Despite the chorus of groans, he heard a feint thud and a curse, and to his chagrin he realized he should have looked where the thick coil would land. He popped his head out the window and saw Kaede rubbing his jaw. "Sorry about that, bro!"

Kaede's eyes widened. "Hideki? What the…?"

He cut his friend short. "Save your babbling for later, alright? Let's get you up here, first."


	4. Chapter 4A: Childhood's End

In all of the world, it was only now Kaede realized that the people he could really trust and deem worthy of all his time and loyalty numbered less than the fingers of both hands. Excluding his family, of course. He'd live and die for them. Friends, however, were a different breed. After countless frustrations, run-ins with hypocrites and fakes, Kaede learned to believe people. Believe, not trust. To believe did not necessarily mandate one to blithely commit their wits and hopes in something that does not guarantee a mutual sort of devotion. To believe did not necessarily mandate one to will himself to vulnerability. Trust required the intimacy of emotion, a steadfast conditioning in expecting that their veneration and confidence will be repaid in kind. Kind of like a return of investment. Disappointment stemming from belief is far less painful than that of which is rooted from deep-seated trust. It was easy to sever ties from a person who led you on after you believed in them. When someone you trust stabs you in the back, however, it demands a payment of blood.

Hideki was a peculiar animal. He stood about the same height as Kaede, except his build was leaner and chiseled despite his fondness for voluminous amounts of soda, beer, and Western fast food, all thanks to a highly physical lifestyle. Because of his association with the Yakuza, he donned a clean-cut profile to match his reputation. His hair was kempt and suave. Before the Outbreak he'd always been a sharp dresser. Suits were his thing back when he was still in "business". During his days off, he was clad in black and leather, but not to the point of impracticality. Just like a true heavy metal fan. Kaede had Hideki to thank for his present musical tastes: Iron Maiden all the way.

In terms of personality, right off the bat Hideki was straightforward, blunt, and sometimes even to the point of being insensitive. He wasn't being rude on purpose, however, though it depended on the person he was dealing with. But it was because of this boldness that he earned Kaede's respect, and consequently, his trust. This man, he thought to himself that time, is a man of character. Hideki wasn't a faker. He knew people at times saw him as an asshole, but he didn't mind. Hideki acknowledged his flaws and even made it public knowledge. What impressed Kaede most was that despite the mud people slung in his direction, Hideki himself didn't really give a shit.

Yet, despite the times they've spent together beating down lowlife thugs and con artists, helping each other pick up chicks only to fail miserably, getting wasted beyond belief—basically just living life the best they could— that man was still a mystery to him. A mystery that was _loyal _to him. And it was this element of reliable unpredictability that cemented his opinion about Hideki, even doubling it.

"You know, now that I think of it, how come you never appeared out of blue like that in the past? During times that I actually _expected_ you to have my back?"

His friend, the young man with the ever-smiling visage, leaned against the wall and afforded a chuckle. "Come now, my friend. You know there'd be no fun if i chose to be predictable."

It was Kaede's turn to laugh. "You mistake predictability for dependability. Regardless," he clapped Hideki's shoulder. "I'm glad I ran into you."

Hideki returned the sincerity. "You are the only person I can entrust my life with. Like the song goes…"

"We're blood brothers." Kaede nodded. Hideki offered his friend a firm handshake, and pulled his best friend close for an embrace. It filled them both with a kind of comfort, a shimmer of hope that perhaps things weren't as bad as they thought.

"Why did you decide to come here? You barely know this neighborhood, which is kind of odd since we used to hang out in our place almost every day when were still kids. Anyway," the young man shrugged. "Hell, you couldn't even cross the street here back when things were still normal. What in God's name made you think you'd do better the ways things are now?"

Kaede grinned. "Don't go thinking I was looking for you, man. Hell, I wasn't even aware you'd gotten back already. Last time we talked was seven months ago. Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?"

"Lots of reasons. Ensuring my safety tops the list. Remember why I left in the first place?"

"Not really." Kaede answered. Hideki merely smiled that cold unnerving smile of his. "You must have pissed off someone at the top, seeing how quickly you went underground. First Paris, now this. What exactly did you do, anyway? Bang your boss's daughter?"

"Niece." Hideki corrected.

Incredulity triggered Kaede to burst out in roaring laughter. "You really need to keep your "knife" to yourself. Keeps getting you in trouble." He offered his friend some crackers and bottled water. Hideki happily partook in the meal. The mild salty taste was simply divine. He damned table etiquette to hell and wolfed down his rations like there was no tomorrow. Given the circumstances they were dealt, he couldn't think of a better idiom.

"I meant to cross the bridge." Kaede motioned to the structure yonder. "There seems to be heavy police presence there. Maybe they'd know where to herd survivors. Maybe…" Kaede hesitated.

"Maybe your family's there." Hideki guessed. Kaede's reaction assured him he had guessed correct. "It's set, then. We'll cross that bridge, and we'll get you back to your folks, alright? Besides, I need to talk to your brother. I didn't get that bottle of scotch I promised him. Speaking of which, how's Benji and Ray?" He smiled; his intentions were good, for he was only trying to inspire some optimism in his best friend. How he wished he hadn't.

Kaede stiffened upon hearing those names. He cast his gaze down and spoke no more. The former Yakuza freelance froze as well. It didn't take him long to realize he'd stepped into forbidden territory. Somehow, Hideki was filled with a grim knowing. And he felt genuine—familiar— loss.

In the eight years Hideki had known his friend, known the hardships from family and social life that Kaede shouldered since he was a boy all the way to young adulthood, this was the very first time he had seen that man shed tears.


	5. Chapter 4B: Childhood's Restlessness

"Don't raise your voice at me, Natsumi! I told you, I was at home! Why the hell do you find it so hard to believe?"

"You lying bastard! I know you've been fooling around again!"

"Again?" Was she accusing him of a past offense he never committed? "What the hell is wrong with you? Listen to yourself!"

There was a loud screech from the receiver. She was screaming now. "I know you've been fucking that classmate of yours! I saw you two hang out last week!"

Kaede swallowed hard, trying to contain his rage. "Mina is just a friend, alright? I just helped her pick out a gift for her boyfriend's birthday!"

"Don't give me that shit, you prick!"

"You want me to slap you in the face with the receipt, you bitch?"

Kaede bit his tongue. Even when she got on his nerves, even when her paranoia overwhelmed him, never in their four years of being together had he called her that. Truly, a dark portent it was.

He heard his girlfriend hiss. Even through the phone he could feel the venom in her words. "Fine, go and screw some more bitches then. You're no better than the rest. I should have known you no longer loved me! I should have—"

His phone—brand new, slim type, and a recent model—exploded into a dozen pieces as he hurled it against the wall. He couldn't take it anymore. He could tolerate her mocking his hobbies, his choice of music, the food he eats, or the places he frequents. But she crossed the line when she accused him of adultery. Adultery! For the love of God! Ever since they became a couple he had cut of all forms of contact with every girl he knew, from old flames to casual flirts, just to reassure her that she was the only woman for him. Yet somehow it wasn't enough. It was never enough. If he fails to send her a text around lunch, he was talking to another girl. If he was late in picking her up for as much as five minutes, he was doing someone behind her back. If he greeted a female classmate, he was grooming a mistress. For forty eight grueling months he endured her merciless witch hunts and inquisition-like grip. But he loved her. Despite all the murk and thorns, he loved her with all his heart and more. But now- it pained him to admit it- his devotion was being tested, stressed to see just how far was the limit of his endurance.

He buried his face in his hands and screamed.

(_segment break_)

Kaede downed the shot of Jager as if it was nothing but chilled milk. He was on his twelfth round and showed no sign of stopping. He signaled the bartender for another shot. The man hesitated, of course. Kaede might look sober. Hell, his speech was as audible and straight like that of an orator's. His movements, however, betrayed what could have been a convincing facade. "Pour me just one more."

"Look, man. You may be friends with my boss, but I'm already breaking the law here. You're underage, got it? I think you've had enough. Be thankful I haven't busted your ass with that cop over there." The man points to the person seated on the edge of the counter.

"Just one more."

The barkeep shook his head.

Kaede slammed a handful of bills on the counter.

The man shrugged and eagerly pocketed the bribe. "Your funeral." He smirked, sliding the glass in Kaede's direction.

The wisest course of action supposedly was to go to her place and get her to sit down and talk, just like what mature people do, like what _real_ couples do. And he felt so guilty for instead choosing to go out with his friends that night and paint the town a brilliant red. They've already downed one too many bottles of imported booze earlier that night, yet part of him still felt that maddening thirst. It was unfortunate that the party had to end before it even got to the good part. No matter. Those assholes deserved it.

Things just kept getting worse. It wasn't enough that his relationship was on the brink of collapse. His social circle was endangered as well. One of his friends asked if he was interested in a few hookups for the night. Kaede politely refused. When said friend laughed in his face and called him a spineless bitch boy, Kaede responded in kind by smashing the bastard's nose with a bar chair before storming out of the room and finding another place to drown his miseries away.

Danma let out a long, pained sigh as he slumped onto the counter. His body was ready to collapse, yet somehow his mind was not yet that eager to retire. He tried thinking of his girlfriend, but immediately dismissed the move, well aware that it would just piss him off some more, and anger only fuelled his longing for alcohol, which was in no way any good. He closed his eyes and tried hard to think of memories past, back when they first met. Or any good memory. Anything, just to block out the rest of the world.

Kaede remembered how Natsumi would tease him by stroking his shoulders into a gentle massage. How it always calmed him. No matter how bad the day, no matter how helpless a situation, all it took was her touch and he'd find the optimism, the determination to see through the trials that waylaid him. Reminiscence never felt so real. In fact, it felt _too_ real.

A delicate, obviously female hand rested on his shoulder. Kaede's eyes shot open. He slowly turned to regard his guest. Never had he seen such a shapely woman. Her lips were thick and rich, her bosom full and heartbreakingly inviting. She had a perfect hourglass figure, and that free-flowing shock of Western brunette was enough to drive a man to his knees. Even someone as loyal and devout as Kaede could not help but stare in awe of the comeliest creature to ever walk the earth. "Now, this is exactly what this place needs." Her grip tightened. "Classy and sharp young men who look like they can handle a woman." Kaede was clearly dealing with an adult, and a ravenous one at that. His guess played around four to five years older than him, and the glasses of bourbon she had tipped back— Kaede could tell despite the mist of exotic perfume this woman wore— was double that number.

"Uh… How may I help you?"

Her lips curved into a playful, seductive smile. "Aren't you the gentleman?" She leaned closer, her plunging neckline giving him a cruel tease of a paradise he knew he could never have. "Buy a lady a drink?"

Kaede smiled, albeit warily, trying not to sound rude or anything. "Don't you think you've had your fill for tonight?"

Her smile widened to a grin, and a predatory one at that. "Really? You think so? Why don't you try to find out?"

It was Kaede's turn to be amused. Was this bombshell coming on to him? It was just so hard to believe. Well, he knew well enough that he's not half bad when it came to the looks department, but in no way did he ever consider himself to be handsome. He laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry, I can't do that."

At a very young age Kaede had come to understand that women are proud creatures, and that they do not take kindly to rejection. Therefore he was expecting her to come at him fast and hard, either a slap, or a punch, or a barrage of curses and screams. Like most drunk chicks. That's why when she just laughed Kaede found it most unnerving. "I can settle for a chat then, if you don't mind, Mr…" she gestured for an introduction.

"Where are my manners? Forgive me. Danma. Please call me Danma." Kaede shook her outstretched hand. "And you might be?"

"Rhea." She beamed.

"What a beautiful name." Kaede complimented with utmost sincerity. "Pleasure meeting you."

"Pleasure shared, my dear."

And so it went on. Small talk snowballed into a deeper conversation. He learned that she's twenty two, and grew up overseas under the care of a foster family hence the European name. He also learned that she was a dog person, and liked listening to AC/DC while driving. He also learned that she had just gone through a break-up, and that her ex-boyfriend was a no-good possessive bastard who took her for granted for five years.

All the while Kaede reflected on his own life, and he had come to a shattering realization: he saw himself in that woman. Back then, simply talking to female acquaintances filled him with worry and guilt, mostly due to Natsumi's excessive paranoia and clinginess. Because of that he never dared to associate with women other than his girlfriend and siblings. Yet now, talking to this stranger, especially after learning they were kindred in spirit, he felt nothing, not even a tinge of remorse. He didn't even bother resisting when Rhea seized him by the shoulders and meant to pull him closer, close enough for their lips to meet. It was as if all the tenderness, the emotion, the intimacy, all the years he spent with Natsumi had simply melted away.

He felt no guilt.

And it bothered him.


	6. Chapter 5: Winds of Destination

*note: to those who have read this story before, you might have noticed that the previous fifth chapter has been deleted. That's because I re-read my story, and realized that the last chapter I wrote sucked so hard even I gave up. Anyway, now that that disappointing beast has been disposed off, let me try to breathe new life into this story. I hope you guys like it!

_Where...?_

Sleep came by harder than expected. Kaede rolled from one end of the bed to the other, to no avail. His mind was set on the horizon. If only he had wings, the mystery will be vanquished, and finally he could get some shuteye. But no. He, like all mortals, was condemned to spend life on the ground, and trod towards uncertainty step by excruciating step. He hated that feeling.

…_you?_

He closed the door behind him and wandered around the floor to familiarize himself with the area so that should the need to desert arise the egress would be seamless. Kaede found himself admiring the design of the structure. It would have made a really good hotel or themed restaurant if only things weren't so god-awfully bad. Down the hall was a veranda with a couple of chairs and a coffee table laid out. It must have been where the designers and engineers met and consulted during construction. He pulled up a chair and let the night was over him. The sky was a mystical deep burgundy dotted with stars. On the borders were streaks of orange. Fires burning in the distance.

_Where…?_

He buried his face in his palms. Maybe sleep had finally decided to pay him a visit. But it was not the weariness he was pining for. It felt alien, felt queer. His stomach knotted, and he felt his heart skipping a beat. He had to remind himself to breathe. A maelstrom of confusion, anger, hatred, and loss threatened to tear him apart from inside. Kaede grasped the railings and clenched his fists so tight as if to rip them from their foundation.

"The noise gets to me as well."

"Are you trying to freak me out?" Kaede lowered his weapons and offered his friend a seat. "The noise isn't that bad, actually. I'm trying to get used to it."

Hideki chuckled. "Try not to. You've got to hold on to what keeps you… human."

"I never thought I'd see so much death, on a scale as grand as this. Feels like a dream."

Hideki yawned, stretching his limbs to bring back some fire into the joints. "More like a nightmare. And with the dead coming back, it only gets worse." Hideki slipped out a soft pack and offered Kaede a stick. "Menthol."

"You know I don't smoke."

"Have a beer, then. It's warm and it tastes horrible, but it's better than nothing." Hideki tossed Kaede a can. "Cheers, man."

The pale amber brew left a trail of warmth as it rushed to his gut. He didn't mind the temperature. It tasted fine. Pretty good, even. "That's some good stuff. Where'd you get it?"

"There's an office below us. It's got a fridge full of beer. Well, used to be full. I think I drank half of the stock by now. Sucks that the power's gone. This beer was the shit when it was below zero."

"Wow, that's great. Say, are there any other helpful things you found that could—oh, I don't know—maybe help us survive?"

Hideki shrugged and placed a leather pouch on the table. "You mean like these?"

Curiosity took over and Kaede found himself peeking inside. "You're kidding me, right?" It was a Skorpion vz. 61 E, complete with three spare magazines and four boxes of ammo. "Where'd you get this?"

"Found it along with the beer."

Kaede could not help but laugh out loud. "I have a feeling that whoever owns this building is a complete nutcase. Anyway, it's a good find. Better than the beer, if I may add."

"Well," Hideki smiled. It was unusually cold. "Taking in beer helps you forget."

The statement took Kaede aback. "I'm not exactly following you."

"The noise gets to you, doesn't it?

"What do you mean?"

"What's keeping you up? Honestly?"

Kaede was getting annoyed now. "I'm fine, bro. Don't sweat it."

"You hear it. I know those eyes. I had the same eyes when I did my first hit."

"Jesus, man! Stop it, alright? I'm telling you, I'm good. Stop nagging."

Hideki was not convinced. He stepped to and leaned closer, remorseless pupils overwhelming his friend's. "Look at me."

Enough! Kaede got to his feet and kicked his chair away. He leaned against the wall, the icy concrete a shiv up his spine. If his friend was so hard-pressed to know what was going on in his head, he had no choice but to oblige him. "You just don't know when to shut up, do you? Fine. All the right choices were laid out before me. God knows why I just had to pick the stupidest ones instead." He downed a third of his drink and gazed up the ceiling. "I fucked up, plain and simple."

"Hey, nobody expected the apocalypse would happen so soon."

"That's the exact reason why people should stop doing shit they'd regret twenty four hours later. You don't know when it will all end, so you shouldn't go around thinking you can just atone another day. Holy hell, where was this wisdom when I needed it?"

"Is this about your family? Or your girlfriend?" The former yakuza rubbed his chin. "Speaking of which, you've made no mention as to how she's doing."

Danma looked to the earth for solace. "The dead need no mentioning."

"Oh, no, no, no…" Haideki meant to clasp his friend by the shoulder but was abruptly shoved back. For a moment he wanted to lash out at his friend for being such a prick, but he had just torn the stitches off of fresh wounds, and had no intention of salting it further. If his friend needed space, he would respect that. "You're certain Natsumi's—"

"Dead?" Kaede's eyes were wroth with hellfire. "Yes. I landed the kill shot myself."

"Mother of God…!"

"So many," Danma recalled. "There were so many of them, like ants scrambling up a honey jar. Those walking corpses had already broken inside her apartment. She managed to barricade herself inside the bathroom. I fought my way to her, smashing as many skulls as I could, screaming her name at the top of my lungs. I wanted her to know I was there. She _had_ to know I was there, that I came for her, that I still cared for her and still loved her, that I would _die_ for her. But for every bastard I killed off, five more would pop up in its place, like rotting daisies."

Hideki snapped a candy bar in two and offered him the other half. Kaede raised his piece in cheers and went on.

"When I finally got her, we stormed out of her place, got in the car and just hit the road like bats right out of hell. Before we reached the next town she started coughing and jerking and crying like a baby. Then I noticed that her arm was bleeding." Kaede drew one of his pipes and struck the floor hard, a web of destruction creeping along the tiles.

There was a long silence. Hideki meant to speak but the words died in his throat. His friend sat unmoving, a gargoyle battered by the storm loss. "Kaede…"

"Red. All I could see was red. Her lips, her eyes, her tears, all red. I drew her close for an embrace and held her there for what seemed like an eternity. I whispered for the last time how much I love her before pushing her away. She resisted, she clawed at me, meant to pull me back for a final kiss I knew was lined with fangs. She was screaming, groaning. She was dead. And she was hungry."

"You did what you had to, my friend."

Kaede sprang up like a viper, his fist clenched around the bloodstained cudgel. "What I had to? Are you even listening to what I'm saying, you Goddamn fuck? She died because of me, don't you understand that? I went partying when I should've patched things up with her that night! I killed her, and I was forced to kill her again!" Danma was trembling so bad Hideki thought he was going to come at him full force.

"You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened. We all make mistakes."

"You kill people for a living! You kill people to pass the fucking time! I'm not a hired gun like you! I don't take pleasure in putting bullets through people's heads! I'm a human being, for God's sake!"

It was as if a battering ram kissed him on the cheek. For a moment the whole word was a blur.

"Shut your damn mouth. You think I'm proud of what I do?"

"Well," Kaede put on a vile grin. "You've done a really good job in hiding your remorse."

Hideki slugged him again.

It was all too much as Kaede fell to his knees and spat blood.

"I feel your pain. Really, I do. Benji and Ray, when you had to kill them, too. I know how it feels to hear them whisper out your name from the darkness and not knowing where to look."

"What the fuck—"

"I'm not a saint. Yes, I've done evil things for money. But don't you ever think I don't look behind my shoulder and not see ghosts. My books are soaked in blood, Kaede. You're the last person I need to remind me of that."

Words are like swords. Once drawn, no force on earth can take back the blow dealt. "I'm sorry."

"Choosing to live isn't always easy. It's hard to call the shot when you're forced to choose between love and survival." He helped Kaede to his feet. "There are times when my gun seems even friendlier than you." Hideki turned to leave.

All alone with no one but the stars for company, the wind's whispers grew hauntingly clearer.

_Where… were… you?_


	7. Chapter 6: Dead On The Edge

"Remember: on three."

"So do we go when you say three, or after you say three?"

"When I say 'three'."

"Wouldn't that be confusing? What if something jumps us before we get the counting done?"

"Quit being a jackass for a moment and just get with the program, alright?" Danma handed his friend an extra magazine. "I'll stick to close quarters. We both know you're shit when it comes to melee."

Hideki smiled. "It's kept me alive this long, hasn't it?"

"Just make sure you've got enough rounds to help you live longer. Everything's set. Ready up. We've got quite the crowd out there."

Hideka peered out the window. A hundred of them, maybe even more. "Good. We've got them surrounded."

""You have got to be kidding me. Did you just rip that off of "Rambo"?"

"Hey, if it works, it works."

Kaede laughed. "Whatever. On my mark. One."

Hideki cocked his pistol and nodded.

"Two." Danma pulled out the iron bar that held the doors in place. In the blink of an eye the portal swung open so violently it smashed him against the wall. For a heartbeat the world blurred, but he had no time to let silly little things such as blunt trauma and imminent death get in his way. He scrambled to his feet and drew his favorite weapons: a pair of beaten steel pipes with strips of cloth wrapped around the handles.

"Told you counting to three was a horrible idea."

"Shoot your gun, not your goddamn mouth!" Danma snarled as a score of undead rushed inside the hall, driven by the scent of fresh meat. He threw himself at a pair of stiffs, a flurry of savage backhand strokes sending them back to the underworld. "Now!"

Hideki nodded and made a mad dash up the stairs. He had a good view from the second floor. "In position!"

Kaede swung his right at full force. The ghoul's head exploded into a shower of putrid fragments, spraying a good half of his face. The stench of decay assaulted his nose. He thought he was going to retch on the spot. He howled in wrathful disgust and saw to the trio of wights closing in on him. "Damn it!"

Finally, he was clear for a shot. Hideki squeezed the trigger and felt recoil snake up his arms. It was exhilarating to watch the corpses drop like bricks as they rejoined the dance of death. "Get moving, Danma!"

_If only it was that easy!_ Crooked, rotting teeth snapped at him from all directions. He banged the pipes together, hoping draw in more bodies. He stabbed at the zed unintentionally stupid enough to call his ruse, the length of iron bursting out the back of its skull. Kaede wrenched the cudgel free and inched back with each strike. He was at the foot of the stairs now, and had to be doubly careful. The crawlers could literally take his legs out from right under him. "Just a bit more_."_ He said to himself. His friend was still busy expending bullets and curses. A sizeable force of the undead was already streaming up the flight. "Hideki, do it now!" When he turned to face the horde once more he saw that multiple gnarled claws had already seized his right arm and ankles in an iron grip.

Although he was ambidextrous, Kaede always felt like most of his hitting power came from his right hand. And when they deprived him of that power, when death had finally manifested itself before him—material, no longer that fabled phantom—all the years of discipline and hard work dissolved into sheer, primal dread. "Oh God, no! No! No! No!" He flailed desperately, but the blows simply lacked the punch to kill all of them off a second time. Memories of Natsumi, of his brothers, his family, his best friend, they all flooded in now that the gates have been thrown wide open. _I'm so sorry. I failed you all._

"Get down!"

By some miracle he registered Hideki's warning at the last second and dropped flat on his back. A heavy wooden bench sped by like a comet, sending the dead flying back like goons in an old-school Chinese martial arts movie fight scene. The former yakuza gunman continued his barrage of lead as he hurried down the steps. "Quit slacking off, gaijin! We've got work to do!"

Kaede did not even bother dusting himself. "I swear to God I owe you big time, man!"

"No problem. The next time we loot, I'm keeping all the beers we find."

"Fine by me. Now come on, let's go!" The second floor, like the rest of the building, was far from finished, a lonely stretch of cement and steel. They ran down the pale corridors, the walking dead hot on their trail. Finally they were at the door. Kaede kicked it open and dashed inside while Hideki watched their six. The scent of paint still lingered in the room. _I pray to God this works_. Leaving everything else to chance, he pressed play.

The iconic galloping guitar riffs, the epic-scaled lyrical themes, the sheer power as the vocalist sang the beginning line 'You'll take my life, but I'll take yours too!". The song rocked the entire room, the entire building as sheer musical genius reverberated throughout the entire structure and beyond. It seemed like a farfetched plot, but if his observations were spot on, then the commotion would surely draw the dead to the source. Furthermore, Kaede did not believe in putting a good sound system to waste.If you're going to come up with a diversion, you might as well do it in style.

"We need to keep moving, Kaede. They're almost here."

Kaede nodded, and they slipped into the next room where they had prepared supplies and a means of egress beforehand. It was no better than the previous chamber. The walls were unfinished; the columns were still raw and crude. Tied to bare metal beams were thick nylon ropes, long enough to get them down to the streets below via the balcony. He peered out the window to see if the stereo trick worked. Sure enough, they were pouring into the building, leaving the alleys relatively clear and safer to traverse. He stashed his lead pipes inside his backpack. Hideki was still busy reloading spent magazines. It was only then he remembered that half of his face was still dripping with putrefied brain matter. Kaede took his shirt off and wiped himself clean before emptying his guts at the corner of the room.

"Don't worry, man. I'm pretty sure some of the houses nearby still have running water and electricity."

"Let's just get out of here before I vomit out what's left of my strength." He fastened the straps of his pack and gripped the rope tightly, tugging a few times to test stability. Contented, he made his way to the balcony and climbed down the ledge. Pretty soon his friend followed. Rappelling down a skeletal building with a mob of ghouls out for your flesh seemed daunting at first, but as their feet neared solid ground he slowly regained composure. The feel of concrete sent shivers down his spine.

"We made it!" Hideki slapped him hard on the shoulder. "We actually made it! Thank you, God! We made it!"

Kaede joined the mirth. "Not so loud, you're gonna draw them back to us."

"I gotta admit, at first I thought that blasting-the-speakers thing was bullshit. You sure proved me wrong!"

"Any plan that involves Iron Maiden can never be bullshit."

Hideki grinned. "Let's just hope Max Brooks doesn't sue the shit out of us."

"Unless he's already been eaten. Anyway, how much ammo do you still have on you?"

"Not much." Hideki scratched his head. "I'm down to three clips. I think I can make it last until we come across another gun shop or precinct."

"I'm pretty sure they'd be picked clean by now."

"We can check the residences up north, where the big shots used to live. I'm pretty sure some of them were packing heat. Maybe they left some behind."

"Good thinking. We need to find a place to stay while the sun's still up. I really need to freshen up." Kaede unpacked one of his steel pipes. "Grab your gear and let's get moving."

The first leg of their trip was a cakewalk. Every John Doe within the player's sound radius was lured into the building like a rat was to a mousetrap. Half a city block of unimpeded ground. There was the random straggler every now and then, but nothing beaten lead could fix.

Hideki came to a halt and raised his hand. "Hold up. There's movement around the corner." They hid behind one of the dumpsters and readied their weapons. There was shuffling, groaning, and the clatter of trash. Commonplace signs that a ghoul was nearby. But there was something unusual about its movement pattern, the way it calculated each step before shuffling forward. It was as if it was sentient… aware. Hideki sprang from the shadows with gun drawn.

"Wait! Wait! I'm a human! I'm not bit!"

Danma stood by beside his friend and eyed the stranger curiously. He was in his late twenties, his chin stubbled. The man wore plain clothes, his service pistol hanging on his hip. Several deep cuts lined his lower left leg, perhaps an escape attempt gone awry.

"Got a name, friend?" Hideki lowered his sidearm.

"Patrolman Junta Hayato." He bowed. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, too." Hideki returned the gesture.

"Danma Kaede. Pleased to meet you, too, officer."

The policeman leaned against the wall and took a deep, grateful breath. "Thank God! You guys are the first people I've come across in days ever since I got separated from my unit!"

Hideki "Where exactly did you come from?"

"From the across the bridge." The man pointed north. "We were supposed to rendezvous with our fellow officers there. Command radioed in and ordered all personnel from this end to report to the barricade ASAP."

Kaede's eyes shot wide with surprise. "Barricade… What's the status there, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I can't say much." Hayato shook his head apologetically. "We were cut off before we could there. A huge number of civilians blocked passage. Then things went to hell in an instant. A commotion broke out. Civilians and those… things… they stormed through the barricade. We received word that the police had started to enforce containment. We couldn't believe it! They started shooting at people!"

A flare of desperate rage threatened to skewer his sanity, but Kaede fought to keep calm. "You said you were with others?"

"I was. A lot of our men got ripped to shreds. We were pushed back here, where the undead presence is heaviest. I got separated from my team when our outpost was cut up by the dead."

Hideki folded his arms. "Where were planning on going?"

"Deeper into the city. I'm going to regroup with the officers who survived. Before that I need to restock on ammunition. I'm hoping the precinct's still intact."

"We can help you get there." Kaede offered. Hideki nodded in agreement.

"That would be great!" Hayato bowed repeatedly. "Oh, thank you, thank you! I honestly don't think I can get any further, but with you two along, I just might make it!"

"Well, let's patch up those cuts first. You look pretty banged up." Kaede dug into his bag. He was sure he snagged some antiseptics and wound dressing earlier. "Here you go, pal. This ought to he—"

The report of gunfire shattered Kaede's eardrum.

It all happened in a flash. The officer hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Blood oozed from the hole between his eyes. Hideki knelt down and rummaged for anything useful he can find. Satisfied, he aimed for the man's heart and fired a second shot.


	8. Chapter 7: The Duelist

For the first time in days it finally rained. A fragment of life returned to the barren city block, and for some queer reason things were looking hopeful. The precinct was, remarkably, left pretty much intact. Neighboring structures fared worse. Stores were looted, apartments afire, makeshift holdouts littered with torn steel, broken glass, and the random body part with a slathering of gore thrown in for good measure.

"Is that all of it?"

Kaede nodded as he stashed the last of batch of bullets in his bag. The previous occupants made damn sure to pick the place clean. They were lucky enough to find a few boxes of ammunition and a nine millimeter, all in good shape. There was also a shotgun, however there were no shells to go with it. Further inspection turned up a complete set of riot gear, but Kaede deemed it best to pass up on the equipment as it would just weigh him down. Hideki, on the other hand, helped himself to a fresh pair of boots, a Kevlar vest, and a shield, and snickered something about Modern Warfare 3.

"Hey, look at this." Hideki pointed at a shelf and began shuffling through its contents. "Confiscated stuff. I wonder if there's something inside we can use."

"Don't bother. Probably just drug paraphernalia."

The hitman grinned. "I beg to differ. Here, catch!"

He unsheathed the blade. Kaede could not believe his eyes. A machete passionately honed and maintained. The blade was broader as it got to the tip, giving it more weight so one needn't expend as much energy to swing as compared to the straighter kind. There were a few nicks along the edge. Most likely the blade was used to clear undergrowth. The tool had definitely seen plenty of use, which was a good sign. High grade carbon steel, a textured ray leather-wrapped handle for superior grip, it was an Eskrima fencer's dream weapon. What the hell it was doing in a confiscation vault, he was being caring now.

"Even I have to admit that one there is a nice piece, Danma."

"True." He proceeded to do some test strokes to further familiarize himself with the weapon. It had better control than the steel pipes he had grown accustomed to. But the thought of leaving them behind wounded him.

"Come on, ditch those pieces of scrap metal. Cramps your style." Hideki joked as if having read his friend's mind.

"They saved my ass more times than I can count. It'll be a disservice if I parted with them now."

"Would you feel better if I found you a katana instead?"

Kaede shrugged and said nothing.

"Suit yourself, pal." The yakuza turned and meant for the door.

He afforded his newfound weapon another glance. Disturbingly Kaede longed to get back out on the streets, scream at the top of his lungs, and take the wicked cutter for a spin and see how easy it would shear flesh and bone. He had practiced with similar weapons in the past, but this was going to be the first time he'd be able test what he had learned on an organic target.

_Would you feel better if I found you a katana instead?_ Kaede's focus sloughed off of him as his mind wandered off to past.

Three years ago. Kendo training just ended. He cupped his hands beneath the faucet and eagerly splashed his face to revitalize himself a bit. Hohiro landed a solid blow a while back, and the sting had leeched most of his strength. But it was a good scuffle, and he enjoyed every single moment of it. Besides, pain was a reminder of life. All of his muscles ached, and he wanted nothing more than to get home and crawl into bed. _Maybe stop by the ramen shack before I take bus?_ He stored the practice armor in the back room and stashed his gi and hakama inside his duffel bag. To help ease his body further, Kaede did some gentle stretching of the arms and legs, finally wrapping it up with some slow and mindful trunk twisting. He yawned and went out of the men's locker room to find Saeko, a fellow student and the daughter of the dojo's master, waiting for him. "Father would like to have a word with you."

"Certainly, miss Busujima. But, uh… why would sensei want to see me?"

She just smiled. "Just follow me."

That was odd. Sensei never called on him for anything. Why now, all of a sudden? They walked in tandem and in silence. It felt awkward. Maybe she was still sore at him. "Saeko?"

"Yes?"

"How's, uh… how's your arm?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him blankly. Then she continued to walk as if having not heard anything.

_Yep, she's pissed at me, alright._

In the shrine room the master knelt in meditation, and before him was the dojo's most prized possession. It was a family heirloom that was said to date all the back to the time of feudal Japan. The lingering scent of incense only added to his unease. "Kaede, I am pleased you can make it."

"It is an honor, sensei. How may I be of service today?"

The man who seemed to have been carved out of pure granite rose and faced the two teenagers. His steely eyes locked with theirs, and spoke out of some displeasure he did not bother hiding. "I have been observing your progress, Danma."

Kaede felt his knees turn to jelly. He nodded, but said nothing.

"I remember when you first entered this dojo. A happy little boy whose heart burned bright with excitement. You started as early as my daughter, and showed great promise. I will be frank in saying that when it comes to skill, you may be her equal, or even greater."

"Thank you very much for your kind words, master. I—"

The man raised his hand. The sudden halt made Kaede flinch. He knew bad news was just around the corner. "But skill is not everything, young man. What I see in you is a spirit that refuses to be caged, to go by the rules."

"With all due respect, sensei, but I…" Kaede immediately wanted to kick himself for interrupting.

Saeko cut her eyes at him with a look that threatened to split him in two.

"You see, that is exactly what I'm trying to tell you, Danma. You lack patience, dedication, _control_. What do you think the art of the sword is about? Force? Fury? No. It is about felling your opponent in one strike, a strike that demands utmost dedication, discipline, and total commitment."

"I understand that, master, but haven't I followed what you taught me wholeheartedly? I never missed a single day of practice, I've always done as told, I never lagged behind with tests. I mean, if not that, what else do you want me to do?"

Saeko's father nodded. "True, you have been an exemplary student. But you have not displayed what makes a true practitioner of the way of the sword."

His teacher's words bore a gaping hole through his pride. "What do you mean I don't have what it takes? I never bragged about what I got, sensei, but you have got to be kidding. I've bested everyone, including your own daughter, and I can do it again if you ask."

"Oh, you've bested every student, of that I am much aware." The grim tone in his voice set Kaede's hairs on an edge. "Can I ask, then, why you're conducting matches inside the dojo without my approval?"

He felt as if embarrassment manifested in its prime material form and slapped him across the face. "Sensei, I—"

"Let alone it being disrespectful, do you know you have endangered the wellbeing of your fellow students?"

"No, no, sensei, it was all under control!"

"Under control." the sarcasm was painful for him to hear. "Benjiro and Hamada have suffered unwarranted injuries, according to reports from their parents, after engaging in some "sparring sport" of which I was totally unaware of until my daughter informed me." Kaede spun to face Saeko and meant to call her ass out for the snitch she was until her father dragged him back into place. "Do not direct your anger at her merely because she did the right thing. A real man would own up to his errors, not blame someone else and avoid the burden of shame in getting caught."

It was Saeko's turn to speak. "Father, if I may speak, do oblige him to set up another sparring. I wish to refute his claim that he had beaten _me_."

"Claim?" Kaede bit back. "It's not a claim when the entire class watched the whole thing happen."

"You fought dishonorably, Kaede. What makes you think I will take that defeat well?"

"The thought of training some more to nurse your wounded ego and avoid getting your ass kicked, that's what!"

"You streetwise punk!" She snatched a bokken resting at the side of the room and raised the mock sword menacingly. "I'll make you eat those words!"

Kaede threw his bag aside and braced for the assault.

"Enough!" The master roared.

Saeko flushed and straightened. "Yes, father. My apologies."

"Now, just because you let me know of what was going on it doesn't mean you're already forgiven of your wrong doing, Saeko. You participated in Kaede's little game as well."

"Participated? That's absurd!"

"And it is also hypocritical. You crossed weapons with him, did you not?"

"I… I did."

The man regarded them both. "I will not have you two desecrate the sanctity of this shrine. If you wish to settle any grievances, then do so in a proper manner before I put you two under disciplinary action."

It's as if the furnace that had fuelled him all these years of training broke and caused a wildfire to surge throughout his being. "Yes, master. And my apologies, as well. If you'd allow it, I do want another match with your daughter. Hell, I would even _beg_ you for it."

"Saeko? Would you agree to his proposal?"

With pure hatred, she answered "Yes."

Kaede looked her in the eye, and with more disappointment than he intended her to know, smiled sadly. "I see what this is now. You want to know who's worthy of stepping up a notch in the ladder. Well, alright then." He balled his hands into fists. "Saeko Busujima, I accept your challenge."

His glee disintegrated. The silence had a familiar sting to it. Kaede looked at his hands and felt his stomach churn in disgust. _No, Hideki. I wouldn't. _He slid the machete back in its scabbard and leaned against the wall, cursing under each breath.


End file.
